Form 467-J93
by Tirnel
Summary: Upper management decide to make wearing contacts the rule.


_A bunch of nothing, really. For Southern_Breeze. If someone wants to take this and make it longer, they can. Just give credit, please. :)  
_

The New Year.

A time to start over new. It is an opportunity to set new goals for oneself. A perfect time to review the laws and regulations in place and make necessary adjustments to them. Some saw this as perfectly reasonable and went along accordingly. Others were indifferent about the matter, going along with the flow, as long as it didn't mean overtime. Then there were those who always found something about the changes they didn't like.

"If you have a complaint, fill out one of the forms provided in your office marked 'complaint' and put it in your 'out box' along with any other completed paperwork rather than bothering me. I am _not_ the complaint office."

"But it's so unfair, William!" The distraught obnoxious red monstrosity leaned over William's desk, invading his personal space. "They should at least give us the _option_ to choose whether or not we want to make the change. It's become a part of my look. A part of _me_!" He patted his chest in emphasis.

William admitted to himself that he too missed the look and feel of his own glasses as he reached up a hand to adjust them, but rules were rules. He brought his hand down, remembering he was no longer wearing them. All reapers were now to wear the new technological advancement known as 'contact lenses'. These new 'chains' to their prison couldn't be scratched, broken, lost, or knocked from one's face during battle leaving one vulnerable. That was the logic put forth for the change anyway.

"I have no say so in the matter. We follow the orders from on high. We do not ask questions. Fill out form 467-J93…perhaps you could start a petition for people to sign, after hours or during lunch." Anything to get him out here. "Maybe Upper Management will change their mind. Now please remove those infernal things you call glasses, put in your newly commissioned contacts and return to work."

Grell snatched the small container holding the lenses from the desk with a look of great disdain and shoved them in the pocket of his red coat. He got halfway before stopping and turning part way back, staring at the floor and speaking softly, "They're going to relocate Pops. Reassign him, or something…and all the others in that department…Now that glasses are no longer necessary. The contacts are all made by machine. See you around, my delectable darling."

"I'm not your…" Oh, what was the point? He was already gone anyway. There was no place for emotion in the job; however, this was Pops they were talking about, one of the oldest and most talented reapers William knew who now was out of a job. To be assigned elsewhere, to be sure, but he would have to learn a new trade, along with many other reapers. They do not question the rules..but…

William got up and went to the filing cabinet standing in the nearby corner. Opening the second drawer, he removed form 467-J93 and began filling it out. Later, after it had been submitted and reviewed, he received a "thank you for your submission" letter. His complaint "shall be reviewed and taken under consideration".

Sutcliff, and a small following who also shared his opinion, flaunted the new rules and continued to wear their glasses. Though one by one the following dropped off, not wanting to receive any sort of negative action against them until only Sutcliff remained, but no change had been made to the new rules despite his protests.

Until one day, someone actually managed to lose a contact lens. How he had lost it was of no concern, but the fact that he had managed to lose the soul he had been sent to collect gave the other reapers pause for concern. Grell suddenly found a new group of followers to back him by sending in a barrage of complaint forms until Management relented and made the wearing of the contact lenses optional. The Spectacles Department was reinstated.

William watched the agents of the Dispatch Department file in. Sutcliff, as predicted came in late. William adjusted his glasses and went into his office. His New Year's Resolution: get Sutcliff to come in on time.


End file.
